


Twisted Fairy Tales - Day 2

by SqueezeBabe



Series: Twisted Fairytales [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Labyrinth References, Legend of Sleepy Hollow References, M/M, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 15:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18594031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe
Summary: A fantastical dream, a twisted nightmare, the headless horseman comes for revenge.





	Twisted Fairy Tales - Day 2

**Author's Note:**

> You remind me of the babe...
> 
> anyway, proceed with the usual caution you've come to expect from my fics.

He awoke slowly, savouring the sensation of the warm pillowy softness that surrounded him. Light filtered through the windows, soft and diffuse, giving the room an ethereal quality as it cast fractured rainbows against the surfaces. He blinked slowly as he looked around, taking in the canopy bed with it’s lacy curtains that let the light in, but obstructed the view beyond.

The curtains wavered in a breeze he did not feel, parting as if by magic. A dashing masked figure approached the bed, exuding confidence and charm; he felt smitten at once, a smile lighting his face as he extended a hand in welcome, the feeling of familiarity fluttering at the back of his mind.  

The figure clasped his hand, bowing with a flourish, the merest ghosting of lips over the skin, their eyes, more hazel than green, inscrutable behind the mask, making his stomach flutter with anticipation. His nose wrinkled suddenly as he caught a whiff of something dark and fetid, seemingly at odds with the purity and beauty of his surroundings. 

The figure tugged on his hand, coaxing him out from underneath the coverlet until he was kneeling on top of it. 

“I’ve brought you a gift,” the figure murmured.

“What is it?” He asked, noticing that the figure had his other hand behind his back.

“It’s a crystal,” The figure presented it with a flourish, “Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams…”

He started at the crystal, mesmerised by the seemingly endless facets and they way it captured the light, splitting his reflection into a million fragments until he swore he could see the images of his dreams dancing within its depths. 

“What do you want in return?” He asked softly, transfixed by the way the crystal bent the light around them.

“I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.” The words were whispered as the figure bent his head, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that he felt all the way down in his core, and the crystal tumbled, forgotten, onto the bed.

It made a part of him feel sick.

But his lips still parted instinctively, drawing the hot insistent tongue against his own, his hands clutching at the shoulders above him as he was slowly pushed back, down into pillowy softness of the bed. 

He moaned wantonly as hot lips made their way down the column of his neck, teeth nipping gently at his flesh; his body arching against that mouth as it captured one his nipples. He could feel himself growing hard, painfully so, the heat of his flesh like a brand against his thigh. 

His conscious wavered , the smell of brimstone, rotten and purulent against his senses, jarring him from the moment. The image of headless man flashed into his mind…

The lips around his throbbing cock jarred him back, a throaty gasp spilling from his lips as fingers sought access past the tight ring of flesh that was his entrance, pushing past and reaching deep inside him, far deeper than ordinary fingers ought to reach. He spread his legs shamelessly as the masked figure moved between them, skillfully moving his fingers within him, making his hips shake with need. 

A keening loss as those fingers withdrew. 

He could feel a new urgency within him, the quickening of his pulse as something hot and heavy nudged insistently against his entrance. He brought his knees up to his chest, his hands reaching for the figure above him as they pressed into him, stretching him, filling him...

The stench of death and decay blew across his face, and for a moment he saw the grinning mask of a halloween pumpkin, it’s eyes flaring green with unholy light. He opened his mouth to scream, but soft lips closed over his as he was thrust into, again and again, his eyes widening in confusion as the masked figure embraced him.

He let out a moan as the thickness inside him rubbed against that spot inside him, his legs wrapping around the hips that pumped against him, urging him on, to go faster, reach deeper, his climax building like a roaring fire that threatened to immolate him…

It burned with him, hotly, insistently… his stomach churning itself into knots… bile rose thick in his throat and a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. He pushed against the barrel chest above him, watching in horror as it thickened and sagged, giving away to the pudge that spoke of age and decadent living, and then continued on, morphing and melting until…

He blinked. 

The room was in ruins, the bed was no more, crumbling and tattered it creaked beneath him, as the hideous grin of the jack-o-lantern stared down at him as it pumped into him. 

He screamed, hands scrabbling for something, anything, as he struggled to push the apparition off him. It gripped his hips, thrusting violently into him as it’s evil laugh rasped against his senses and terror gripped his heart.

His hand closed over an object, and without thinking he struck blindly at the pumpkin head, knocking it off the figure’s shoulders with a wet crack. The figure shuddered, it’s hips stuttering against his own; he almost retched at the feeling of it’s repulsive essence flooding his insides. 

The evil cackling continued as it withdrew from him, leaving him to scrabble away, his stomach heaving as he struggled to contain himself, it’s putrid juices leaking from his abused hole. 

He looked around ruined room, a room that looked like it had aged hundreds of years, the ghost of a room he’d once fallen asleep in. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was no longer that small child that had fallen asleep, but was now older, his frame thin and lanky. The object that he’d failed blindly with was a stone, nothing more, but the after image of a glittering crystal stuck in his mind.

In the rubble of centuries old stone, a glint of metal caught his eye. 

The apparition was approaching him, carrying it’s jack-o-lantern head under one arm, a head that was smashed in on one side, globs of rotten flesh oozing from it as it’s eyes continued to blaze green with otherworldly light.

He dove for where the glint was, his hands closing over it as he rolled upright, brandishing it before him. It was a carving knife, old as the ruins around him, but the glade still gleamed with wicked sharpness. 

“ _ Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here, to take back that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours. You took my head, so now I’ve come for yours. _ ” Its voice was a raspy cacophony straight from the depths of hell. 

He charged at the apparition, swinging the carving knife blindly as he dodged past it, running as if his very life depended on it. 

The ruins were overgrown with vines that snaked through the crumbling stones, and little orange pumpkins grew here and there. Horrified, he continued to run, the vines seemingly crowding him in, herding in directions he didn’t intend on going. On and on ran, the soulless laughter of the headless apparition snapping at his heels. 

Gasping for breath, he staggered to a halt. The way in front of him was barred, the vines surrounding him, twisting themselves together as they rose in a great column before him, vanishing from his sight into the clouds above.

There was only one route of escape, and that was upwards.

He began to climb, the knotted vines providing many a handhold. Further and further clambered skyward, and still the headless man pursued him. Higher and higher he ascended, until he broke free of the very clouds.

A hand clutched at his ankle, and his heart rose into his mouth. He kicked himself free, slashing blindly with the carving knife. With a sickening thunk, it lodged itself into the pumpkin head.

The light went out in the jack-o-lanterns eyes, and slowly it began to fall.

He watched as it tumbled over itself, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

And upwards he continued to climb, wondering where the vines would lead him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As usual, comments will be moderated because some of you can't be trusted. 
> 
> Can you guess what the next twisted fairy tale will be? ;)


End file.
